


Dead Anonymous (Or, Coffee Strong Enough To Raise The Dead)

by Unknown



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M, inspired me, whooops, yeah write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 17:55:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unknown/pseuds/Unknown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt Idea:</p><p>"Write a scene that captures a group meeting of Dead Anonymous (DA), a support group for people who’ve died and are having trouble accepting it.</p><p>Where do the meetings take place? What kind of people are in the group? How did they die? Was it funny or sad? Do they have regrets? people they’ve left behind? Are they happy to be gone?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Anonymous (Or, Coffee Strong Enough To Raise The Dead)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know. But the blog Yeah Write! had this as a prompt and I took it and ran with it. I changed the names to fit my purpose. Thanks.

“Well this sucks.”

Chuck is 21 years old and hating every moment of his pathetic continued existence. That’s right, _existence_. Because he is dead and he just can’t seem to wrap his little Australian brain around it. One minute he’d been partying at some frat house, some kind of drug mixed up with his shot of tequila, and the next, well…

“That is so depressing, go on, tell me more,” a voice says from the side and when Chuck turns, it’s to find a light haired – light eyed man a few years older than him sitting around on one of the Starbucks chairs. The place has long since closed, Chuck assumes, and he hadn’t even seen the man come in.

“You can see me?” He pauses. “I was saying that aloud?”

“Yes and yes,” the man responds. Slowly, all around them, pale shapes begin to appear, solidifying into people. Most looked dazed and confused, but a few just sigh in resignation. “Welcome to Dead Anonymous, the place where are the poor souls that can’t accept being dead go to.”

“To do what?” a young girl of Asian descent says with a raise of her hand.

The man laughs. “To vent. No need to raise the hand, sweetheart. This is the afterlife, not your high school class.” He smiles. “High school right?”

“Yeah,” she responds, hugging herself tightly and looking away. She’s got streaks of orange and yellow in her brown hair, her amber eyes going downcast. “Last year of it, too. I guess my boyfriend really wasn’t kidding when he threatened to…” She trails off, her face going ashen. The man’s face gets a pained look, lines marring his pale features.

“I’m sorry,” he says with an abundance of sympathy, putting a hand on her knee and squeezing gently.

Chuck, however, snorts. “What the hell were you doing with him, anyway? No way should a pretty, nice girl like you be kicking the bucket so young because of some jerk.”

“Hey, a little respect for the dead,” their leader (or so Chuck thinks he is) snaps. “DA is for people to vent, not to be judged. Everyone makes mistakes, Mr. Mixing-Drugs-And-Alcohol.” The man raises an eyebrow. “You’ve got no room to pass judgment.”

At that Chuck leans back and rolls his eyes. A few more people have appeared but besides that, there’s no one else around. No one living, no late employees. Not even a stray cat come to sit by the Starbucks glass doors. It would be eerie if Chuck wasn’t reminded that he was already dead. He shivers at that and sits back. The man gives him an odd look but doesn’t say a word.

“So, I tried to move on and it didn’t work,” a man says and everyone turns to look at him. His hear is short and brown, his skin tan as if he was of Hispanic descent. He gives a put-upon sigh. “Hey guys, its Tendo.” He coughs a bit. “ _Again_.”

“You tried to move on,” the man prods. “Okay, so why do you think you failed?”

“My wife,” Tendo says automatically. “Look, for those that don’t know, I died of radiation poisoning. Whoops. And I had a great job too. But… I can’t leave her, you know?”

Chuck shifts in his seat, thinks of the father that he left behind. They had never had a good relationship, but now that he thinks about it, he feels himself cementing to this world where he doesn’t belong anymore because he really doesn’t want to leave the familiarity of his father’s presence.

“Oh no you don’t,” their leader says to Chuck out of nowhere. “Don’t let others’ experiences influence you. You have to make it through on your own, and in a positive way.”

“Yeah, but what the hell are we going to?” Chuck asks, trying not to sound panicked and failing.

A man in the back perks up, his graying hair standing out stark against his dark skin. “I think that’s the point young man,” he says in an English accent. “We aren’t supposed to know. That’s the scary part, I think. Leaving all of this behind for something else.”

“Stacker,” the mystery man says. “You’re back?”

The man nods sagely. “I was looking over my grandchildren. I’ve decided I wanted to be here for them when they come over, reassure them so they won’t be stuck like you lot.”

“Hey!” a nerdy man with glasses says in the corner. He is covered in tattoos from head to toe, piercings in his ears, nose, left eyebrow and lower lip. “D-don’t treat us like that! What happened to no judging?”

“You’re right Newt,” mystery man says. “Tone it down with the doom and gloom, Mr. Pentecost. You’re scaring the noobies.” And with that he winks.

Chuck feels his stomach twist up in knots at that and curses the fact that he’d never met the man when he was living. What a pair they would have made, the two of them, the mystery man with his charm and Chuck with his acerbic sarcasm. He sighs a bit wistfully. Not to mention it looks like the man could kiss.

“So, Newt. Wanna share with the class?” He stands then, stretching and whoa, when did Chuck start forgetting about being dead and start watching that shirt ride up? “Also, anyone want a coffee? I mean, it’s like phantom coffee, but it tastes the same. That’s why I have these meetings in Starbucks.” The smile he gives warms Chuck to his toes and the Asian girl next to him slowly comes out of her shocked shell and nods. A few others who haven’t spoken nod as well and Chuck finds himself standing up to help. “Go on Newt.”

“So like, I exploded something in my face. And I guess that’s what killed me?” He shakes his head. “And it sucks because my lab partner – I’m a scientist, a biochemist, by the way – my lab partner, I was gonna ask them out because they are the smartest, most sexiest thing I have ever laid eyes on and now that is _ruined_.” He sniffles. “Because I am dead, oh my god, why is this so unfair.”

“I died because I choked on a sex toy,” a blonde Russian woman says in a heavy accent across the room as Chuck gathers cups. He shares a disbelieving look with the Asian girl and he hears the mystery man laugh beside him. “I’m Sasha,” she adds.

“How… how did you _choke_ on a sex toy?” Chuck finally _chokes_ out and he laughs at his own thought there.

She shrugs. “My husband had a ball-gag in my mouth. The ball popped off the gag – it was an old toy, I had bitten through many times – and it plugged up my windpipe.” She shrugs again, but if she’s here, Chuck reasons, then she’s not as blasé about it as she seems. “I choked and died. They were not able to resuscitate me, I assume.” That’s the last of the stories and Chuck hands people phantom coffee with the mystery man. A few minutes later and they’re all sitting around, sipping at their mugs.

The mystery man sighs, a sad look on his face.

“So!” he says clapping. “Noobs get first go.” He turns to Chuck who shakes his head.

“Not me, mate. I ain’t going anywhere first.”

“Fine,” the man says, but there’s something in his eyes. He turns to the Asian girl. “Mako right?” She nods. “Why are you afraid to go?”

“I think I was just shocked that I was actually dead,” she says, her voice a bit in awe. She sighs. “But IN know I must go on. I cannot stay here, locked in this existence. What will I see? My friends moving on, my parents mourning? No.” She finishes her coffee and stands. “I have no regrets, save that I stayed with that horrible boy for far too long. But now,” and she clenches her fists in front of her with a little smile. “Now I am _free_.” She stands and pats Chuck on the shoulder, then kisses the mystery man on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he says with a small, sad smile.

“You made me think. And you made me speak. And sometimes, that is all one needs.” She leaves her mug on the table, but it slowly disappears as she walks to the front door of the Starbucks and then disappears as she walks through it.

“Did she just…?” Tendo says. “Seriously? I’ve been here for like, years, and she’s been here for five seconds and poof! She’s gone? How the hell is that fair?”

“It’s a personal journey,” mystery man says softly. “You go when you’re ready.”

“Screw this,” Tendo says and he slowly fades away. His cup returns to the sink.

“He’ll be back tomorrow,” the man says, then turns to Newt. “How’re you feeling?”

“Scared,” Newt admits. He fiddles with his glasses. “I’m never gonna ask ‘em out, am I?”

“No,” mystery man says honestly. Newt sighs.

“Well, shit then.” He stands. “I gotta go. See what’s on the other side, you know? For science.” But his hands are shaking through the determination in his voice. “They’d have wanted me to, I know it.” He clenches his jaw and scratches idly at one of the tattoos on his neck. “Um, bye?” He points to Chuck. “You’re a bit of an asshole, by the way. I might not see you if you go to hell, you know? Just though you should know.”

“Cheers,” Chuck snorts, holding up his mug. He knows he’s an ass, thanks very much. That’s part of his whole _thing._ Newt walks towards the Starbucks front door and disappears and so does his plastic cup of espresso.

“I should be off,” Stacker says suddenly. “I’ve got grandkids to watch grow.” He nods to the mystery man. “As always, amazing coffee. Thank you for the conversation as well.” Mystery man gives a small wave as Stacker disappears, his coffee mug sitting on the table, leaving a ring.

There’s only Chuck, Sasha and the mystery man. Both men look at her and she sighs. “Yes, yes, I understand. My turn to either move on or stay around like those two cowards.” She waves a hand in Stacker and Tendo’s direction. “I chose to leave, thank you.” Sasha stands and brushes off her pants, cracking her knuckles and then her neck. The pops make Chuck cringe and beside him, the mystery man is making terrified faces. It would be funny if Chuck wasn’t making them too.

“Now what?” she demands.

“Um…” the mystery man says. He rubs the back of his neck and… is he unsure? Chuck looks at him curiously and the man starts to blush. Huh. Good to know that could happen in the afterlife. “If you’re ready to go, you gotta just believe you do? It’s different for everyone.”

“I am ready to go,” Sasha claims. “I am moving on and being strong for my husband. He would be proud of me,” she says fiercely. A bit too fiercely. Chuck frowns.

“What is it that you did for a living when you were alive?” Chuck asks, a bit meek he’ll admit. She raises a brow and he shakes his head, putting his hands up in surrender. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to know anymore. Sayonara.” And then Sasha is striding confidently to the Starbucks’ door. She pauses in hesitation for a moment, looking more human than ever, but then she lifts her chin high and disappears through the door. Her glass mug of Irish coffee vanishes.

Chuck sits back and looks at the mystery man, then, in the silence. He sips at his black coffee, watching the man swirl the last dregs of his in his ceramic mug, chipped on the lip closest to his mouth. He’d gone straight for it, like he had done this so many times before. He must have, Chuck realizes.

“Why do you do this?” he asks bluntly. “And who the hell are you?”

The man gives a laugh and Chuck watches as his shoulders shake, his shirt stretching sweetly across their broadness. “My, my. Someone’s caught on quick. First one in a while to be honest.”

“What happened to you?” Chuck insists, putting his cup to the side.

“That’s my job,” the man responds softly.

“Yeah, well. Who says?” Chuck crosses his arms. “Mind as well tell me, I’m not going anywhere otherwise.”

The man’s face creases in thought. Then he stands up and goes over to the sink behind the counter. Chuck sighs in defeat. He had thought that having someone else talk about their problems would make him forget his and –

“My brother died before me,” the man says. “My older brother. Car accident. The driver smashed his side and he just…” He swallows as he washes his mug slowly in the sudsy water. Chuck doesn’t understand the semantics behind that, but he lets it pass. “I watched him die. And after five years of it… I couldn’t take it. I was gonna start working at a big company, but the day I was due to report in, I…” He stops. “I tossed myself off the work building instead.” He stops and rubs his face. “And then I came here and just hung out and a lot of people came here looking for something familiar and that’s when I started DA. Because I couldn’t help my brother move on and come to terms with the truth, so at least I could with them.”

There’s something niggling at the back of Chuck’s mind about the story. It seems so familiar. It hits him suddenlt and he’s surging up.

“You were gonna work for the oil company, Striker Eureka, right?” he says quickly.

The man spins around on his heel. “Yeah, how the hell-?”

“My dad _owns_ that company. You were gonna come intern with _me_ ,” Chuck says quickly. “Oh my god, you’re _Raleigh Becket_. You…” He stops. “I thought your resume was the most impressive thing in the world. I wanted… I wanted to meet you so _bad_.” He pauses and frowns. “Then you went and offed yourself, you bloody moron.”

“Hey!” Raleigh says, but there’s a weak smile on his face. “No judging, remember?” He swallows and looks down at the floor. “Not such a bad boy, are you?” he continues, his voice hushed. “You know, you’re not so bad. I might not have stepped off if I knew someone like you was going to be on the other side.”

“I’m the idiot who ODed,” Chuck reminds weakly, his knees feeling weak at the small smile Raleigh is giving him. “So you’ve just been helping people all this time? For how long?”

“Dunno,” Raleigh responded. “Time is different here.”

“And you never moved on because…?” Raleigh doesn’t speak. “Still haven’t forgiven yourself for your brother’s death, have you?” Raleigh shakes his head.

“I don’t wanna go to hell for letting him die,” Raleigh admits. “I don’t wanna go to hell for letting my soul die long before my body did, and then…”

“Bullshit,” Chuck says suddenly. “I’d mind as well have done the same. And you had better reason than me, too. I was just being a rich, spoiled brat. I think you’ve more than done your share of repentance, anyway.” Chuck walks up to him and says, “Look at me.” Raleigh lifts his head slowly and their eyes meet. “Come away with me,” he says, a hint of a smile playing about his face.

“… it’s not that easy,” Raleigh says, but the protest is weak. Their hands clasp together and this is the afterlife, Chuck thinks. Why the hell not take a leap of faith? Isn’t that what the afterlife is all about?

“Look, if you go to hell then I will too. If you go to heaven, then I will too. If you get stuck in between, then I will probably too. We did pretty much the same thing. You won’t be alone,” Chuck reasons and it sounds pretty damn great now that he thinks of it. He’s a genius.

“Don’t you wonder though,” Raleigh says softly. “Don’t you wonder about everyone else? About the people you left behind? You’re dad. You’re friends.” He looks at the coffee cups still left from Tendo and Stacker. “Those two?”

“If we keep wondering, we’ll never get another chance to do something. You’re dead mate. It’s time to accept that, don’t you think?” Chuck says and yeah, solving Raleigh’s problem pretty much just solved his.

“I…” His hand tightens in Chucks. The laugh that bubbles out from his pink mouth is broken and strangled. “I’ve never been outside this Starbucks since I died.”

“But Starbucks, really?” Chuck says, trying to lighten the mood, trying to abate the apprehension and excitement that’s building up inside him at the prospect that Raleigh might be agreeing to leave with him. “You couldn’t have chosen somewhere less… hipster/douchebag like?”

“First place that came to mind,” Raleigh admits. “There was a Starbucks across from your dad’s building.” And Chuck can see it now, in his mind’s eye, right across the street. “Last thing I really saw.”

“Yeah,” Chuck says. He takes a step back, taking Raleigh’s hand with him. “You coming or what, has-been?” With that, he takes a few tentative steps toward the door, letting go of Raleigh’s hand. Chuck bites his lip as Raleigh stares at the store around him with indecision and fear. And then he sighs, a long deep sigh, and takes a step forward, his hand outstretched. Chuck grips it in relief and pulls Raleigh to him. “Oh thank god I thought we were gonna be stuck in this god-forsaken place forever with that downer Tendo and that weirdo Stacker.”

“You weren’t gonna leave without me?” Raleigh asks in surprise, something else coloring his voice.

“Oh hell no,” Chuck says. “You crazy?” He shivers. “I feel better when I’m with you.” He pauses. “Also, in case I’m wrong.” He leans in, kissing Raleigh lightly, their lips just pressing and barely brushing. “Just in case I don’t see you on the other side, though I’m confident I will. Just so I know how it feels.”

Raleigh looks pleasantly dazed. “I thought you had all this real confidence, you frickin’ liar.”

“Cheers, mate,” Chuck says and together they disappear through the Starbucks door.

Their mugs disappear as well.

* * *

 

Tendo sits around with a few new dead people and waits, but Stacker knows. Only his and Tendo’s cups were still here, phantom things that the living couldn’t see, but that Raleigh usually put away. He hadn’t this time.

That means he’s gone.

Without further ado, Stacker takes control of the meeting, hushing the strained and terrified voices with his low, soothing one.

“Calm down, everyone. My name is Stacker Pentacost. Welcome to Dead Anonymous.”

* * *

 

In an unspecific time and place in the future land of the living, a rich, spoiled brat drinks his black coffee in a Starbucks across from his father’s company. He is twenty one years old. Across from him sits a man with light-hair and light-eyes, a few years older than him, sipping from a mug he brought from home, the side closest to his lips chipped on the edge. They hold hands across the table, sipping their coffee and absentmindedly talking to each other about classes and work. The light-haired man makes the brat feel like a better man in the same way that the brat gives the light-haired man courage.

Sometimes, it feels like they’ve met each other before this, in another lifetime maybe, in the crossing between two worlds. Sometimes, they swear they can see phantom mugs lying around the Starbucks when they leave late at night.

The mugs are always gone when they take a second look.


End file.
